


Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

by KatyWrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5512793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatyWrites/pseuds/KatyWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A smutty/fluffy Wincest Christmas one-shot for Sophie Winchester. Merry Christmas y'all!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

It had been years since they had really celebrated Christmas. They hadn’t even thought about it since the year Dean’s soul was damned. There was always something - the Apocalypse, soullessness, Leviathans, Hell - there was never time. But this year was different, Sam thought. They had a home - the Bunker gave them a place to live, a real home. With Cas living with them, Sam took it upon himself - they were going to have a Christmas this year, and that was that. 

It began when Dean returned home from a supply run one afternoon. As he descended the stairs of the Bunker, he stopped. There was his brother, with his back turned to him as he unraveled a string of rainbow twinkling lights around a small pine tree. Strings of lights were wrapped around the bannisters in the library, with a great wreath hanging in the doorway.

“Sam?” he asked, slowly making his way down the steps. The younger brother turned, smiling. 

“Hey, Dean.” he replied. Dean furrowed his brow. “What the Hell is all this?” he asked, beckoning around the room. 

Sam grinned. “It’s Christmas. I figured we’d give it another shot.” 

Dean shook his head. “Why’s that?”

His brother shrugged. “Dunno. I guess it’s nice to finally have a home, a place to call our own. I just thought it’d be a nice thing to do, since tomorrow’s Christmas Eve… Why? You don’t like it?” he asked, apprehensive.

Dean shook his head again. “No, it’s great Sammy. Really.” He shot his brother a genuine smile. 

Sam held up the tangled ball of lights in his hands. “Wanna help?”

*****************************************************************************************************

Christmas morning came all too quickly. Sam woke up early, feeling strangely refreshed. Dean’s side of the bed was empty and cold. Yawning, he shoved off the sheets and made his way down the hallway. As he walked past the Christmas tree, he stopped. There was Dean, wrapped up in a large blanket while sitting in front of it. He was looking up at the twinkling lights; the rainbow flecks reflected in his eyes, and he just looked so content. He reminded Sam of a child - and this warm, familiar feeling filled his chest. He padded over to his older brother quietly, Dean not even noticing him until he was sitting right beside him. 

He turned suddenly, and his face melted into this rare, warm smile that Dean wore less and less often. “Hey, Sammy,” he whispered.

“Hey,” Sam replied. Dean offered him some of the blanket, and Sam draped it over his shoulders. They both looked back at the tree, sitting in a comfortable silence. 

“Sammy,” he began, “I just wanna say - thanks. For Christmas, I guess.”

Sam shook his head. “Thank you Dean,” he whispered. 

“For what?” he asked. 

“For giving me a reason to have one.”

 

Whatever else Dean was going to say was forgotten as Sam pressed his lips to his brother’s. It was a tender kiss, almost chaste, and, for a moment, it was enough. The warm light from the Christmas lights in the otherwise-dim room made it feel so intimate, like they were the only two people in the world. Just the touch of Sam’s lips on his, soft and gentle, then Sam pressed his body against Dean’s and the kiss slid into something else. Their lips slanted across each others, mouths devouring the taste and feel they had missed for so long. Sam slid his tongue along Dean’s bottom lip, then licked into his open mouth, exploring and sliding against Dean’s. Sam pressed his hips into Dean and their cocks slid against each other, both achingly hard. 

Hooking his fingers in the hem of Dean’s shirt, Sam pulled it over Dean’s head, flinging it away. They shifted against each other, skin on skin, reveling in the feel after going so long without it. They were like addicts who couldn’t get enough. Dean shoved his sweatpants down, kicking them off.

Dean pulled back, sitting on his haunches gazing at his little brother’s body. Sam’s lips were swollen from his kisses and his tongue flicked out to lick them. His eyes were lidded and Dean knew that look. Sam only looked at Dean that way. Sam had never been shy with Dean when they were in bed. He let Dean see everything that was in his heart, everything that he wanted, everything that he needed.

“Dean, please,” he whispered.

“So beautiful, Sammy,” Dean murmured, pressing down into Sam again. They shared long, deep kisses, tongues moving in a slow, languid dance. They were rediscovering each other’s bodies, a hand caressing the soft flesh on the inside of a thigh, a nip to the soft flesh underneath the jaw, soft kisses across the chest ending in a mouth teasing a nipple into hardness. Dean licked a stripe up the long column of Sam’s throat while his hips ground out a rhythm against Sam, their cocks moving against one another with the sweetest friction.

They rolled and Sam lay atop his brother, his hips still rocking against Dean. Sam moaned as Dean threaded his fingers in his hair, pulling Sam’s lips to his again. Working a hand between their bodies, Sam wrapped his long fingers around both their cocks, stroking them together, smearing pre-come across the tips and down the length. Dean continued to thrust against him and the combination had Sam so close. He was trembling with the effort to not come, to wait for Dean. Breaking the kiss, Dean wound his hands in Sam’s hair and groaned, “Sam….Sammy. Gonna come.” And then he was spurting, hot and wet, over Sam’s hand and that was it for Sam. Watching Dean shake and come apart had his own orgasm ripping through him, pumping against Dean and slamming his lips over Dean’s to swallow their cries of pleasure.

When Sam’s senses returned, he was laying with his head on Dean’s heaving chest. He kissed one eyelid and then the other, smiling as Dean shivered in response. He grabbed his discarded t-shirt and wiped them clean before rearranging the blanket over the both of them.

He lay with his head on Dean’s shoulder, one leg draped across Dean’s thighs and an arm slung across his stomach. Dean’s arms came around him and he rubbed Sam’s arm lightly.

“You okay, Sammy?”

Sam hugged Dean even closer. “Yeah, I am. Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Merry Christmas, Sammy.”

They lay together, holding one another until Dean felt the change in Sam’s breathing and knew he had drifted off to sleep. He brushed back sweaty strands from Sam’s forehead and kissed him lightly on top of his head. He looked up at the Christmas tree with its twinkling lights and foil star and sighed.

Finally, he was home.


End file.
